Things in Common
by VooDoo Lily
Summary: A Petrelli sibling talks to a Winchester sibling about the loss of a brother and other topics in a series of unrelated one-shots. Update: Ch. 6: Dean and Peter discuss the desire to have a normal life
1. Nathan and Dean

Title: Things in Common

Summary: A Petrelli sibling talks to a Winchester sibling about the loss of a brother.

Notes: Set during Season 2 of "Heroes," when Nathan is drinking when Claire calls him. My memory's fuzzy on the details of the scene, so apologies if it feels off. Set during Season 3 of "Supernatural."

* * *

"Don't call again," Nathan warned Claire before he ended the call on his cell phone. He returned to his Scotch, hunching over his glass tumbler in the dimly-lit, anonymous bar he had chosen to drown his sorrows in.

"Ex-wife?" a man's voice asked. Nathan turned to his right, seeing a young man in his late twenties sitting two stools over from him, a bottle of beer in front of him. He wore an untucked button-down green shirt that brought out his green eyes, and the spiked tips of his blonde hair gleamed under the bar's low-hanging lights.

"What?" the politician asked.

"On the phone," the stranger clarified. "Was that your ex-wife?"

"No. It was—" he broke off, unable even in his half-drunken stupor to bring himself to say the words "my daughter." "Nobody," he finished. "It was nobody."

"Right," the young man said with a nod, not believing him for a second. "So, what's your story, chief? Lost your job? Your savings? Bet on the wrong horse, maybe?"

"I lost my brother," Nathan blurted out before he could stop himself. "He's gone," he added much more quietly.

He kept his gaze focused on the amber liquid in his glass, but he heard the sound of shoes scuffing against the floor and then the young man's exhaled breath as he sat himself down on the empty stool next to Nathan's.

"I'm sorry," Nathan heard him say softly. "I know what that feels like."

"You know what the worst thing about it is?" Petrelli asked. "The worst thing is that I couldn't save him. And now, I'm here, and he's—God knows where."

"What, you don't think he's up in heaven, playing the harp?"

Nathan chuckled. "Peter? Oh, believe me, if there was anyone who'd be up there, it'd be him. No, I mean, I don't even know for sure if he's dead or alive. They didn't find his body."

The young man's eyebrows shot up. "Then what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be out there looking for him? I mean, if it was me, that's what I'd be doing."

"I _have_ looked for him," the older man countered. "But he could be anywhere by now."

"Then you keep looking," came the determined response. "You call in favors, bring in help. If there was even a _chance_ that my brother was out there, alive, I'd never stop looking for him. Family, no matter how screwed up it is, is the only thing we've got."

Nathan nodded. "Family," he repeated to himself. He thought of Heidi and his boys, who he had driven away, his mother, who he refused to see, and Claire, who he could barely talk to. Without Peter, he was lost. He needed to find his brother.

He knocked back the rest of his drink, and then stood up from his seat. "Thanks for the advice," he told his companion. "What's your name, anyway?"

"Dean."

"Dean, I'm Nathan." He glanced at the younger man's beer bottle and pulled out his credit card. "Here, let me pay for your drink." He signaled the bartender and handed over his card.

"Oh, well, thanks. That's really…" Dean let his polite remark trail off, watching as Nathan signed the receipt. "Well, I've gotta get back on the road," he said, getting to his feet, "but I hope you find your brother."

"Thanks."

Dean clapped Nathan on the back once in a goodbye, before heading out to the parking lot, and getting into his Chevy Impala.

Once in the car, he turned to look at Sam, who was asleep in the passenger seat. Dean smiled fondly at his little brother, then started the engine and pulled onto the road.


	2. Peter and Sam

Notes: Set after "Heroes" Season 4 episode "The Fifth Stage" and during Season 4 or 5 of "Supernatural." Spoilers for both shows are implied or present.

* * *

Peter splashed some running water onto his face from a men's room sink in Mercy Heights Hospital. He didn't want to start his next shift and have Hesam realize he'd been crying.

He grabbed some paper towels from the wall dispenser next to the sink and mopped his face with them, only to feel more tears coming on. He braced himself with his hands on either side of the sink as his shoulders began to shake with silent sobs.

"Hey, man, you okay?" an unfamiliar voice asked.

Startled, Peter whirled around to see a hospital orderly who had apparently just entered the bathroom. The orderly was tall, over six feet, and had wavy brown hair and blue-grey eyes. Peter didn't recognize him and figured the guy was new.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he lied, wiping his eyes quickly with the back of his hand.

"Uh, you don't look fine," the orderly replied with a soft chuckle.

"It's—my brother. He's—I'm still dealing with his loss."

The taller man's face softened with sympathy. "Yeah, I know what that's like," he murmured.

"You lost a brother too?" Peter asked.

"Yeah, I have," came the reply. "I didn't take it well either."

The paramedic shook his head. "You know what the worst thing is?" he asked. "I couldn't save him. I tried to, but I couldn't." Suddenly, he slammed his hand down onto the sink in frustration. "I can save so many other people, but not my own brother."

"It sucks, I know," the man said softly. "But you can't beat yourself up over it."

Peter laughed bitterly, recalling how he had said almost those exact words to Nathan—what had remained of him anyway—not long ago.

"He told me to carry on for the both of us," Petrelli admitted, staring absently into the sink. "But I don't know how."

"Looks to me like you've got an idea." The orderly gestured to his paramedic's uniform. "You're at work. You're helping others. Isn't that what your brother would want you to do?"

Peter nodded slowly and sniffed, feeling his tears dry upon his cheeks. He thought of how Nathan had become a politician because he wanted to make a difference in as many people's lives as possible. No matter how much he might have acted like an ass at times or screwed things up, he had cared about others.

"Thanks," he finally said, glancing up to meet the orderly's gaze in the mirror. He managed a brief smile. "I'm Peter, by the way. What's your name?"

"Sam."

Peter nodded in acknowledgement. He turned on the tap and washed his face again. After he had wiped the water from his face, he began heading for the door. "I really need to get back to work," he began, "but thanks again, you know, for listening."

"No problem," Sam assured him.

As Peter reached for the door, it opened from the other side and a young man about his age, dressed in jeans and a checkered button-down shirt, entered the restroom.

"Take care of yourself, Peter," Sam called after the paramedic, making the newcomer give Petrelli a curious look as the dark-haired man passed him on his way out of the restroom.

Once he was gone, however, the casually-dressed man turned to Sam. "So?" he asked. "What's up?"

"I went to Mr. Brennan's room. No EMF whatsoever. There's nothing here, Dean."

"Ok, then, let's get out of here," Dean urged.

"Yeah," Sam agreed with a nod. "Just need to use the facilities first."

"What were you doing before I got here?"

"Talking. That guy's going through a rough time, Dean. He just lost his brother."

"Yeah, okay," Dean mumbled, Sam's words striking a chord within him as he remembered a conversation he had had a few years ago about that same subject. "Just hurry up. I'll wait for you outside."

Sam smiled, guessing the reason behind his older brother's agitation. "Hospitals still give you the creeps, huh?"

"Hey, you try wandering around one as a spirit with a Reaper after you and tell me if they still make you feel warm and fuzzy," Dean shot back on his way to the door.

"Point taken," Sam replied. He waited until Dean had opened the door before he spoke again. "Hey, Dean?"

His brother paused and looked back at him. "Yeah?"

"You know I love you, right?"

Dean made a face. "Dude, what have I told you about getting all touchy-feely on me? Come on," he complained, before walking out the door.

Sam smiled, knowing Dean's attitude was all a front. Maybe they didn't say it to each other, but he knew he and his brother loved each other. They were family, and they were all they had.


	3. Peter and Dean

Summary: Peter and Dean talk about absent fathers and favorite sons.

Notes: I'm too lazy to look up the episode titles, so let's just say this is set some time after the S2 premiere for "Supernatural" and sometime after Arthur's actual demise on "Heroes." I wasn't sure how in-character this would be for Peter, but after the eulogy scene in "Let It Bleed," I felt more convinced that the Petrelli brothers have a similar relationship to that shared by the Winchester brothers.

* * *

It was Father's Day.

As much as he tried to throw himself into his work at the hospital, Peter couldn't avoid being reminded of what day it was as family members visited patients, and he saw more children than usual in the waiting room and at the vending machines in the halls. Finally, in an effort to escape it all, he went up to the roof of Mercy Heights. When he got there, though, he was surprised to find that he wasn't alone.

A man was standing there by the ledge, his hands in the pockets of the long, weather-proof jacket he wore to ward off the cold, his legs and feet encased in a pair of jeans and some sturdy boots. Peter could see the dark blonde hair on the back of his head. The other man looked over his shoulder when he heard Peter open the access door, and the paramedic glimpsed green eyes and an evaluating look on the stranger's face before he turned away again to look at the view. Just as Peter was about to ask what the man was doing on the hospital roof, the blonde-haired man spoke first.

"Tryin' to forget the occasion?" he asked, and Peter thought he detected the hint of a Texan drawl in his voice, but he couldn't be sure.

"Uh, yeah, I guess," he answered, going over to join the man in looking out at the city. "Just needed to clear my head a little. I find this is a good place to do that."

"Yeah, I was never into the whole 'cards and gifts' thing," the hospital visitor went on. "My family didn't do that. Not on Father's Day, anyway," he amended, thinking of the rare times he and his brother had exchanged gifts on holidays.

"Neither did mine," Peter said, keeping his gaze on the horizon.

The green-eyed man glanced at him. "Yeah? What'd your family do?"

"Well, my dad was a lawyer, so he was usually bailing out criminals, while my mom attended some function, and my brother bought us takeout for dinner. When our dad died years later, the only thing that changed was that I had to get my own dinner."

"I hear you. When I was growing up, my dad was away half the time on… business, and I had to look after my little brother. And, well, we were moving around so much, we couldn't really celebrate anyway. So, when he died, it didn't feel weird when we didn't do anything special the next time Father's Day came around."

"Did you love your father?" Peter asked delicately, knowing it was a personal question.

The other man scoffed. "Hell, yeah. I looked up to the man. He was my hero. He taught me a lot. But—" He broke off suddenly, looking troubled, as if he hadn't meant to utter the contradictory word, and it had simply slipped out.

Peter waited patiently. "But what?" he gently prodded after a short silence.

"My dad always told me to look out for my brother, and sometimes, I got the feeling…that he cared more about him than me."

"I can understand that. My big brother is the golden boy in our family. It wasn't a big secret that our parents preferred him over me. I always thought it was because he was the older son, but," he glanced at the young man beside him, "I guess favoritism goes both ways, huh?"

"Yeah, you could say that again," the blonde-haired man said with a chuckle. "So, how about your dad? What was he like?"

"My dad wasn't exactly the best role model, but, you know, I still loved him. But not long before he died, I found out some things about him, and he did some things…that betrayed my trust in him." Peter's gaze grew steely as he recalled the awful moment when his father had stolen all his abilities.

"What happened to him? How'd he die?" the man asked softly.

"He was murdered," the dark-haired man said, surprising himself with the even tone of his voice.

"My dad gave his life for me," his companion admitted.

"Then he really was a hero," Peter remarked.

They glanced at each other, then returned to looking at the view, lapsing into silence for a few long moments.

"Father's Day sucks," the young man suddenly proclaimed loudly, making Petrelli grin.

"Yes, it does," he said softly. He looked at the man beside him, curiosity apparent on his face. "So, what brings you to the hospital?"

"A friend of mine is a patient here. I'm just taking a little breather, before I head back down to see him. Speaking of which," he looked at his watch, "I'd better go check on him and make sure he hasn't scared any interns."

Peter smiled. "Sounds like a plan."

The blonde-haired man scratched his head, a small smile also on his face. "Well, it was nice talking to you, Mister…?"

"Just call me Peter."

"Dean," the other man introduced himself, and the two men shook hands, before he left Peter alone on the roof.

-*-*-*-

Dean was on his way to his friend's room when he passed the hospital gift shop. He stopped in his tracks, thinking of his conversation with Peter, then went back and entered the shop.

When he arrived at his friend's room, he found his brother Sam there. Sam was sitting in a chair against the far wall, but he got up and approached Dean when he entered the room.

"Dean, where have you been? You were supposed to see Bobby fifteen minutes ago. He fell asleep while we were waiting for you."

The older brother glanced at the room's patient, their fellow hunter Bobby Singer. The older man had gotten hurt on a job, but his injuries were healing well, and he would be fine in a few days.

"Sorry," Dean apologized in a low voice. "I had to make a stop at the gift shop." He held up the card he had purchased.

Sam read it and blinked in surprise. "A Father's Day card? Dean…"

"Hey, Bobby's been like a father to us, hasn't he? I figured, you know, a card from us might cheer him up a little."

"What brought this on? We never celebrated Father's Day before," Sam pointed out, marveling at the change in his brother's attitude toward the occasion.

Dean shrugged. "I just had a talk with someone, that's all," he said. "We both agreed that Father's Day sucks, and then I thought, it doesn't have to suck for Bobby. So…"

"So, you bought him a card," Sam finished. He sighed, and then looked at his brother, a smile slowly forming on his face. "Got a pen?" he asked.


	4. Sam and Peter

Notes: Set pre-series for "Heroes" and "Supernatural." I would love to write a conversation between Nathan and Sam, but I have no idea when to set it or what the characters should discuss. Toss any ideas my way via review or PM, please.

* * *

Sam Winchester was enjoying his class trip to New York City. The place was full of culture, people, art, and history. Best of all, it was far away from his hometown of Lawrence, Kansas, and a far cry from his life growing up as the younger son of an ex-Marine Corps serviceman who hunted evil creatures.

Today, he sat outdoors at a café, his law books spread out on the table before him. Sam had brought his books all the way with him from Stanford, intent on doing some more studying, even though the visiting students now had free time to do what they wanted and explore the city. His girlfriend, Jessica, after trying to convince him to go shopping with her, had finally abandoned him to his studies.

He was absorbed in a book on legal precedents when he heard something heavy hit the ground with a solid thump, soon followed by a man swearing in a loud whisper.

Sam looked towards the source of the noise, a young man sitting at a neighboring table. He looked to be about his brother Dean's age, but the similarities ended there. Where Dean was blonde and muscular, this man was leaner and had dark brown hair and brown eyes that contrasted with his pale skin. Like Sam, his table was also covered in books, one of which had fallen to the floor. As he had leaned over in his chair to pick it up, a passerby had accidentally kicked it away, eliciting a curse from him.

The book had slid close to Sam's chair, so Winchester picked it up, glancing at the title as he did so, and brought it over to its owner.

"Studying nursing?" he asked, handing the book back to the man.

"Yeah," the other man replied with a tight smile. He seemed to be expecting Sam to say something else, so the tall young man jerked a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of his own table.

"I'm doing pre-law," he shared.

The dark-haired man looked over at Sam's book-strewn table and nodded. "You from out of town?" he asked.

Winchester smiled sheepishly, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "That obvious, huh?"

The man shrugged. "It's just that I grew up here, so I can tell you're not from the city."

"Yeah, I'm here with some classmates, actually. We're on a field trip from Stanford."

The stranger's brown eyes widened. "Wow. Stanford. You must be pretty smart."

Now it was Sam's turn to shrug. "I'm Sam," he introduced himself, holding out his hand.

"Hi, Sam. I'm Peter," the dark-haired man replied, shaking his hand. "Thanks for getting my book. And for, you know, not making fun of me. Most people would have made a joke about male nurses by now."

"I'm not most people," Sam responded. He added a smile to lighten the seriousness behind his words.

Peter chuckled. "I wish my brother could react to my career choice as seriously as you. He hasn't stopped teasing me since I told my family I was going to go to nursing school."

"Let me guess—he's older, right?"

Peter glanced up at him. "Sounds like you know about big brothers."

"Yeah, I have an older brother too, but I haven't seen him in awhile. It's been about…" Sam paused, remembering the last time he had seen or spoken with Dean, "a year and a half now, since we spoke. Same with my dad."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Peter said softly.

"We kind of had a falling out. My dad wanted me to go into the family business after I graduated high school, but I wanted to go to college. My brother obeyed my dad's wishes. I didn't."

Peter nodded, a soft smile on his lips. "My brother and I were like that too. He followed in our father's footsteps and became a lawyer. I broke away, decided to become a nurse. My parents weren't too pleased. They still aren't."

"So, why nursing school?" Sam wondered. "If you don't mind me asking," he added.

"I wanted to help other people," he said simply. "Not just treat them, but care for them too." He looked up at Winchester. "Why are you studying law?"

"To help others," Sam replied, "and," he added, scratching the back of his head ruefully, "being a lawyer pays the bills."

Peter laughed. "It does," he agreed.

Sam grinned back, and then returned his hands to his pockets. "Well, I'm gonna get back to my books, so…" he trailed off into silence.

"Yeah, I've gotta get going anyway," Peter declared, starting to put his books away into a messenger bag that he had set on the chair beside him. He put the bag's strap over his head, then held out his hand to Sam.

"Nice meeting you, Sam. Good luck with your studies."

"Thanks. You too," the college student said as he shook Peter's hand again.

The dark-haired man smiled at him, and then turned away, walking down the street for a few feet until he got into a cab by the curb.

Sam watched him go, then slowly walked back to his table and began reading his law books once more.


	5. Nathan and Sam

Notes: This is set during Season 3 of "Heroes" when Nathan is in the church, praying, and early in Season 4 of "Supernatural" when Sam and Dean are at odds with one another over the use of Sam's psychic powers, and the way Sam "powers up" is left deliberately vague.

* * *

Nathan Petrelli sat in a pew at the front of the church, his hands clasped together in prayer as he looked up at the altar. His lips moved as he quietly repeated the Hail Mary over and over.

The only other civilian in the church was a young man who had been kneeling at the altar, and now stood up. That was when Nathan noticed the stranger's height. He was quite tall, easily over six feet. But when the young man turned and began walking down the center aisle, allowing Nathan to see his face, it was his expression that caught Petrelli's attention. He looked so downcast that almost before he knew what he was doing, Nathan spoke.

"Excuse me," he called out.

The young man paused, blinking at Nathan through the loose strands of long brown hair that hung down in front of his face. Quickly, he smoothed his bangs back, and Nathan saw the pain and anguish in his blue-gray eyes more clearly.

The politician cleared his throat, feeling awkward now that he had the other man's attention. "I couldn't help noticing…you looked like you could use someone to talk to."

The stranger hesitated, then nodded. "I could," he admitted.

Nathan tilted his head to indicate the rest of the empty pew that stretched beside him. "Sit down," he urged.

The young man did so, offering the politician a nervous smile. "Thanks, um…"

"Nathan," Petrelli supplied, offering his hand.

"Sam," came the reply as they shook.

"So, what brings you here, Sam?" Nathan looked around at the vaulted church ceiling above them.

"I'm praying...for patience and understanding. Especially with my brother," he added. He smiled for a moment, but then a shadow darkened his face. "We…haven't been getting along lately."

Nathan smiled knowingly. "Ah." He then leaned towards his new acquaintance. "Can I tell you something, Sam?" he asked, lowering his voice to a whisper.

"Uh, okay." Sam shrugged his shoulders. "Go ahead."

"I haven't been to a church in years, but I… recently had a near-death experience."

The young man beside him nodded.

"It changed me," Nathan continued. "It made me feel closer to God. That's why I'm here now. I…had a moment of clarity. It's like…" he paused, trying to find the words he needed. "Have you ever felt like you _had _to do something, even if you knew other people—even your own family—might disagree with it?"

Sam looked away. Petrelli's words had hit him too close to home. "Yeah," he admitted softly. "I have. I've been doing something myself that my brother disapproves of, but he doesn't understand that I'm doing it for a good reason. If it can help save people, even the world—"

"Then isn't it a necessary evil?" Nathan finished. He too was staring off into space, almost as if he had forgotten Sam's presence.

The two men were silent for a few moments, each of them justifying their actions in their own minds.

Footsteps echoed through the church as a man in a suit walked up a side aisle. He stopped at Nathan and Sam's pew. "Congressman," he whispered, laying a hand on Petrelli's shoulder, "you need to get ready for your meeting."

"Thank you," Nathan said. He got to his feet and turned to Sam, who stared up at him, confused.

"You're a Congressman?"

"And soon-to-be Senator, I hope," he replied. He suddenly fixed Sam with a sharp look. "Do I have your vote?"

But the young man shook his head. "I'm not registered to vote in New York."

Nathan made a noise that conveyed his disappointment. As Petrelli walked back down the aisle with his aide, Sam rose to his feet and called after him.

"What exactly are you going to do?"

Nathan stopped and turned to face him. He grinned, and Sam saw it for the patented, sleazy politician's smile that it was.

"I'm going to make the world a better place," he proclaimed.


	6. Dean and Peter

_Houlihan's Bar, New York City_

Dean Winchester usually welcomed the noise and chaos of bars. But tonight—

"_Kanpai_!" cried a Japanese man for the fourth time that night, breaking Winchester's train of thought. The hunter glared at him, but the stranger remained blissfully unaware of Dean's irritation from where he sat two barstools away from him. Another Japanese man sat to the man's right. He was shorter and chubbier than his friend and wore glasses.

"_Kanpai!_" the shorter man echoed. He slurped at his foamy mug of beer as if it was a soda.

"Good God," Dean mumbled, putting a hand to his forehead. Their toasting and drinking had been going on for over an hour now. Had he been here for pleasure, he would have left already, but he was here on a case. A girl he was watching over worked here as a waitress, and she was still on her shift.

Directly to Dean's right sat a dark-haired, Caucasian man drinking club soda. The stranger glanced at the hunter as he grumbled at the two Japanese men's noisy behavior.

"They're celebrating. This is kind of a last-minute bachelor party." He pointed to the taller Japanese man next to him. "That's the groom."

Dean nodded. "Figures. Wants to enjoy his last night of freedom, huh?"

His neighbor smiled. "Actually, he told me he can't wait to be married tomorrow. He's found love."

Dean took a sip of his beer in an attempt to dull the sudden ache in his chest. "Love, huh? Well, I gotta say, that's—that's hard to come by." He nodded toward the two Japanese men. "So, how do you know them?"

The man hesitated, but Dean didn't notice as the waitress he was watching approached the bar counter with food for the man wearing glasses. "Oh, waffles!" he exclaimed with childlike excitement as she set his plate before him.

"Enjoy," she told him.

As she passed by where the brown-haired man was sitting, he held out a folded bill to her. "Extra for getting the waffles," he explained with a small smile, but she shook her head.

"I told you, I'm not taking your money. Anything else I can get you, Peter, just ask."

"Thanks, Christine."

The waitress went on her way, and Peter returned to nursing his glass of club soda.

Dean studied him with renewed interest. "You know her?"

"Christine? Yeah. She was in a car accident about six months ago, and I responded to the scene. I'm a paramedic," he explained.

"So, you saved her life."

"You could say that." He held out his hand. "I'm Peter."

"Dean." They shook hands. "Hey, so why aren't you joining in the party? Shouldn't you be drinking with Laurel and Hardy over there?"

Peter smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I'm not much of a drinker," he confessed. "Never have been. I'm just serving as their designated driver tonight." He paused, then asked, "What brings you here? First time in New York?"

"I've passed through before," Dean said smoothly. "My brother and I are on a road trip."

There was a flash of sadness in Peter's eyes at the word "brother." "That must be nice," he said softly.

Dean leaned toward him. "Let me ask you something. You ever think…a normal life is all it's cracked up to be?"

The paramedic's expression was serious as he answered. "My life is far from normal," he assured the hunter. "And I used to love that. But lately…" He shrugged. "I'm starting to think normalcy isn't such a bad idea."

Winchester nodded. "Me too. I moved around a lot when I was a kid, and I used to love life on the road. But these last few years, it's been wearing me down. I just—sometimes, I just want to be…"

"Ordinary," he and Peter said in unison.

"Yeah," Dean continued. "You know, the whole shebang—white picket fence, hot wife, two point five kids, a minivan. Well, maybe not the minivan," he amended, thinking of his prized Impala.

Peter chuckled. "Those things would be great," he agreed. He thought of Emma and glanced wistfully in Ando's direction, who was happily conversing with Hiro in their native tongue. "Maybe we'll be able to have them someday."

Dean silently stared into his half-empty mug of beer. He wasn't feeling as hopeful as Peter was.

"Excuse me. Peter Petrelli?" the shorter Japanese man piped up, startling Winchester from his thoughts.

Dean's neighbor turned back to his friends. "Yes, Hiro?"

"I have finished my waffles, and Ando would like to go to another bar."

"Yes, there are so many I have read about in the guidebooks," Ando added.

Peter nodded, smiling at them. "Sure," he replied. "Just let me get the tab."

He paid the bill, and then laid a hand on Dean's shoulder as he left, surprising the man.

"I wanted to wish you good luck, Dean. I hope you find the normal life you're looking for."

The blonde-haired man nodded. "Yeah. Thanks, man. Right back at you."

As Peter was following Hiro and Ando to the door, Dean called out to him. "Hey, you know a place that has good apple pie?"

Peter gave him the name of a café, and Dean decided he would check it out later. He wanted a normal, safe, "apple pie" life, but if "normal" or "safe" wasn't in the cards for him, he was damn sure going to have the "apple pie" part while he could.

Peter, meanwhile, exited the bar and felt for his cell phone in his jacket pocket. He pulled it out and texted a message to Emma as he walked to Hiro and Ando's rented car, which was parked a few yards away.

_Lunch tomorrow?_ Holding his breath, he pressed "Send."

He had only taken about three more steps before he received her reply. A grin broke out onto his face.


End file.
